Fortunato's Death
by Sailorstar165
Summary: Yet another school work fanfic I love Enligh class this year. The Cask of Amontillado told from Fortunato's PoV.


**Cask of Amontillado**

It was dark out, lit by many warm candles. Of course, I was much warmer than those around me, for I had been drinking merrily and partying in the wonders of the carnival. Across the way, I saw my dear friend Montresor, wandering in a black mask and requelaure. I stumbled over to him and grasped his hand happily.

"My dear Fortunato," he said kindly, "you are luckily met. How remarkably well you are looking today!" He glanced around nervously, and said in a low voice, "But I have received a pipe of what passes for amontillado, and I have my doubts."

I was dumbstruck. "How? Amontillado? A pipe? Impossible!" My befuddled mind could hardly grasp the concept. "And in the middle of carnival!"

"I have my doubts," he replied worriedly. I think I might have said it much too loudly, but he seemed to calm when no one had noticed, for he added, "and I was silly enough to pay the full amontillado price without consulting you in the matter. You were not to be found, and I was fearful of losing a bargain."

"Amontillado!" I repeated as he said, "I have my doubts."  
I repeated the name of the most luscious wine ever concocted by human hands.

"And I must satisfy them," he said a little more urgently.

"Amontillado!"

He seemed slightly irritated as usual by my overly drunken mind. "As you are engaged, I am on my way to Luchesi. If anyone has critical turn, it is he. He will tell me—"

"Luchesi cannot tell amontillado from sherry," I scoffed.

"And yet some fools will have it that his taste is a match for your own."

I stared at him a moment. He must have been drunk or have bumped his head. All knew that I was a connoisseur when it came to the greatest of wine. "Come, let us go!"

"Whither?"

"To your vaults." It was amazing that he couldn't figure out what I was talking about. I grinned, realizing he must have been merrymaking as well.

"My friend, no!" I could not hear Montresor's reason for me not to go. All I heard was "engagement" and the cursed name "Luchesi"

"I have no engagement; come." He tried to convince me once again. "Let us go, nevertheless. The cold is merely nothing. Amontillado!" I gave a low whistle of amazement. "You have been imposed upon." I couldn't hear what other things I said in my stupor, but the next clear thing in my mind was the empty but spectacular palazzo.

We entered his vaults, which were vast, and stuck up some meaningless conversation. I was just itching to taste that wonderful God-sent wine known as amontillado. As we walked, he suddenly stopped me, pointing out the niter and asking me about my cough. What cough could he be—I started coughing loudly.

Once again, he tried to convince me to leave—begged is a better word—and then when I refused, offered me a draft of Médoc.

Longer, we wandered this time, and he brought up the niter once again. Did he not want me to examine his amontillado for him? Once again I refused, and we continued, chatting innocently about his arms. Also, we somehow gained the subject of the Masons. He showed a trowel as the signs of the Masons.

"You jest!" I laughed, recoiling a few paces for the joke.

"Be it so," he replied with a smirk. You don't find it funny? I guess you would have had to be there. Anyway, we continued into a large crypt. In my stupor, I never would have realized that the bones on one side were strewn messily, but as I said, I was drunk.

Montresor pointed to one side, and I walked forward, slamming right into a wall. I spun around, realizing something was wrong. I felt cold chains around my stomach and knew: it was a trap.

I cried and whined, and begging for some kind of savior. "The amontillado!" I sobbed, but I doubt he heard me, for he was building a wall. I screamed now, hoping someone would hear me. My "friend" must have plotted for it, for he was screaming louder than I, and laughing all the while.

Desperate, I said, "Ha! Ha! Ha!—He! He! He!—A very good joke indeed—an excellent jest! We will have many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo!"

I must have seemed hysterical, for he replied, "The amontillado!" sarcastically.

"Yes, the amontillado. But is it not getting late? Will not they be awaiting us at the palazzo—the Lady Fortunato and the rest? Let us be gone."

Montresor said something I could not hear over my own panicked sobs. "_For the love of God, Montresor!_" Once again, I could not hear what Montresor replied. I fell silent. Breathing in the cold air had not done me good. I heard someone call my name—Montresor? I could still hear him, but I heard another voice as well. Possibly, I was going mad in fear.

One of the torches fell through the remaining slot, briefly lighting the small place. My head lolled to the side, my hat falling to the ground in a quiet jingling. The last thing I heard, though from Montresor or from within my head, I did not know, was _In pace requiescat._


End file.
